


Harriet Watson-last resort

by highfunctioninghedgehog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But they're oblivious, Doctor John, F/F, F/M, John - Freeform, John Loves Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock needs Harry's help, Sick Sherlock, Work In Progress, bless their souls, critiques please!!, first fic!!!, harry - Freeform, predicaments, sherlocks in a predicament, this ought to be interesting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfunctioninghedgehog/pseuds/highfunctioninghedgehog
Summary: Sherlock is in love with john. He needs to tell him, but can't bring himself to do it. Sherlock goes to Harry as a last resort.I'm not a great writer btw but I really enjoy it so here we are!





	Harriet Watson-last resort

“John?” 

“Yes Sherlock?” John looked up from his laptop to Sherlock, currently balanced upside down in his chair, fingers pressed to his chin. A pile of crumpled up tissues lie next to him, marking dull, endless hours he had spent sneezing and coughing, waiting for his ill nurtured body to heal.

“We’ve been flat mates for a year and a half now, and I’ve still never met your sister.” His voice was husky, and it gave John the urge to make him a cup of tea. 

John winced.“Er, well yes.”

“Why don’t you want me to meet her?” Sherlock inquired, spinning into a normal Sitting position. 

John gulped and sat up. “Who says I don’t want you to meet her?”

“You. Your posture changed notably as soon as I mentioned Harry-“ a coughing fit cuts him off, and John sees it as an opportunity to change the subject. 

“Alright alright, don’t start ranting, you need to rest your voice. You should eat some breakfast. You won’t get any better if you refuse to eat.”

“Boring” he rasped.

“No. You need to eat. As your doctor I insist you eat.” John shut his laptop and made his way over to the fridge. “What are you in a mood for?” He fingered the cold handles before swinging them open. “Eggs?” 

“I’ll eat if you arrange a time for me to meet her.”

“Fine,” John Huffed. Now that Sherlock had his mind set on it, a meeting with Harry was inevitable, and it was time they got out of the house anyways. He leaned against the counter. “How would you like your eggs?”

“Benedict.”

“Right.” John stood on his toes and got the frying pan off the top shelf. He searched through the sea of body parts in the fridge for some eggs, and began to cook them.

For some strange reason, John had always enjoyed the sound eggs made when they were cooking. The sizzling and crackling gave him a strong sense of nostalgia. It made him remember the good old days, when his parents were still alive and Harry wasn’t an alcoholic. He missed those days, but he was glad that he had met Sherlock. He was glad that he had found his way to 221B, and he was glad to leave his past behind him. 

“Where’d you learn to cook?”

John jumped, spraying hollandaise sauce all over himself and the ceiling. “Bloody hell Sherlock!” He shouted. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Sherlock laughed his deep, baritone laugh the first time in weeks, and then coughed— “Sorry!” He grabbed a napkin off the table and handed it to John who wiped the yellow sauce off his face. 

“How are we going to get it off the ceiling? Mrs. Hudson will have a fit!”

Sherlock studied the crime scene on the ceiling.“I suppose you could sit on my shoulders,” he suggested with a playful smirk.

“Oh sod off!” John shot back with grin. After a few minutes of laughing or wheezing in Sherlock’s case, John sat Sherlock down and forced him to eat. After a few bites he started to gulp it down. In between bites, he asked once again;

“John, where’d you learn to cook? I usually don’t enjoy food, but this is exceptionally pleasing.” 

John hesitated. “My mum, she used to teach me and Harry. Until Harry, told her she...” He trailed off. 

Sherlock observed him for a second with his gorgeous green and blue eyes. “I understand.” He coughed awkwardly. “It’s a hard subject to discuss. When I came out to my parents, I-“

John couldn’t stop himself interrupting; “Came out? You’re..?” The awkward pause grew longer and longer. 

“Yes.” Sherlock pursed his lips, his face unreadable. “I thought I made that clearly obvious at Angelo’s, when we first met.”

“Oh yes.” John cleared his throat, and tried as hard as he possibly could to keep his face indecipherable. ”I uh- I see.” He would not, could not, allow Sherlock to know how this made him feel.

“Er,well. I’ll text Harry, and ask her if she’d like to go to dinner in about a week. I’m sure you’ll be better by then.”

Sherlock smiled.

“Buuuuut, you have to promise you’ll eat every day this week.” He scolded, like he was bribing a small child, and in a way he was.

Sherlock frowned childishly, catching onto the joke.”fiiiiine.” He whined back.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd You think?! Comments and critiques would be lovely! I'm probably going to write the next chapter in the next week, so yeah. Kudos would also be lovely too! I'm excited to see where this story leads. Have a great day/night!!
> 
>  
> 
> Brownie points if you got the reference hehe


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